


And To All A Good Night

by SeasonOfMists



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon, Psychic Richard Strand, Stragan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeasonOfMists/pseuds/SeasonOfMists
Summary: All Alex Reagan wants for Christmas is a good night's sleep.
Relationships: Alex Reagan/Richard Strand, Ruby Carver/Nic Silver
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	And To All A Good Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aproclivity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aproclivity/gifts).



> Happy holidays, Aproclivity! I hope you enjoy your gift.
> 
> Note: I have read so much fantastic fan fiction for The Black Tapes. (Including some by my recipient) As a result, some of their fanon has slipped into my fanon as well. If you see any you started- I acknowledge you and I thank you! You've given me much happiness. There are two meta cross fandom references in here as well. One is obvious, the other is not. Much thanks to their creators as well.

Alex Reagan needed a nap.

An unlikely proposition in an office full of energetic interns on the last day before Christmas break. Even with her door shut, Alex could hear them carrying on in the lobby. From the sound of things, she was the only one attempting to do any work today.

Alex smothered a yawn with her hand. She mentally corrected herself: she didn't _need_ a nap; she _wanted_ a nap. What she needed to do was finish the paperwork up on her screen. Preferably before she fell asleep at her desk. Alex blinked hard and forced her eyes to focus.

Someone knocked on her office door. A didn't close her eyes to ask for strength. If she did that, she would fall asleep. Instead, she raised her eyes in an imploring look for help from above. Whoever stood on the other side of the door, she hoped their problem was easy and quickly solvable.

"Come in," Alex called. Her office door cracked open. Nic Silver popped his head in.

Despite her tired irritation, Alex smiled at his ridiculous appearance. At some time during the afternoon, Nic acquired a pair of rabbit ears. In honor of the season, they were bedecked with a garland of intertwined holly and ivy. Alex took a closer look. Was that a cluster of mistletoe tucked into the strands?

"Nice ears," she told him. He shrugged. "Melissa went through the trouble of making them," he explained. "It would be rude not to try them on."

He meant Melissa from Accounting. Melissa, who had a giant crush on Nic. The same Melissa who Ruby swore she never thought about driving out to the middle of nowhere and leaving for dead.

"I wanted to check up on you," Nic said. Alex watched his gaze sweep around her cramped space, then land back on her. "Are you alright?"

Alex forced a smile on her face. There was no point in taking out her insomnia induced crankiness on a friend. She knew he only asked because he cared about her. Frankly, if she found a woman hiding out in her office, dark circles around her eyes and numerous empty paper coffee cups scattered all around her? She would have asked the same question.

"I'm fine," she said. "I'm just trying to finish some paperwork before we close for Christmas." A raucous shout floated in from down the hall. Alex shook her head. "I must be the only one."

"Zac snuck three bottles of red wine into the office this morning," Nic told her. "The interns have been passing them around since at least noon."

Nic seemed bemused by his obvious lack of control over his people. But not too much, from the looks of him. Bedecked bunny ears aside, the brightness of his eyes and the flush in his cheeks gave him away.

"So, you decided if you can't beat them, join them?" she suggested.

Nic ducked his head, acknowledging her call out. "Only after four," he argued in his own defense. "They're very...persistent."

He considered her. Alex knew he didn't miss the obvious signs of sleep deprivation on her face and body. His next words confirmed it. "Go home, Alex. I can handle things here."

Alex sighed and turned back to her computer. As usual, Nic was right. She wasn't doing any good here, not for herself or anyone else.

"Oh, and Alex?"

Alex looked back at him over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Be careful getting home," he said. "It's raining, the traffic is terrible, and you're about to fall asleep at any moment."

"I'll be careful," she promised him. "I'm stopping at Imogene's, and then I'll go straight home." It was impossible to miss Nic's sweeping appraisal of the collection of empty coffee cups littering her office. "I'm only going in there to get a box of tea for Richard," Alex assured him. She still enjoyed Nic's slight start at hearing anyone call the formidable Doctor Richard Strand by his first name.

"Please text that man before you leave Imogene's," he said. "The last thing I want or need for Christmas is Ruby blowing up my phone, looking for you because her boss is flipping his shit wondering where you are."

Almost a year out from the events in Geneva and Richard still worried too much about her. Alex couldn't blame him. She worried about him just as much. Being overly cautious was a mental nervous tick that neither of them could seem to shake. Alex snorted. She supposed seeing the one you loved die in front of you would make a person anxious about personal safety.

_Alex... please..._

Since childhood, she held the irrational belief that movement could physically knock bad memories out of her head—a placebo effect but one that always calmed her down. Alex gave a small toss of her head...and her trick failed. Her thoughts scrambled for something else to grab onto to help pull her out of the painful memory.

Ruby. Nic had mentioned Ruby.

"So, you and Ruby are texting now?" she asked him, affecting innocence. She knew the two of them communicated outside of work. But she had to take the rare chance to heckle her friend about his personal life instead of it being the other way around.

His blush spread to his ears. "Only to keep tabs on you two," he shot back. "Who knows when you'll go running off to Turkey again. Or Geneva."

"Suuuuure," she drew out the word teasingly. "Will we see you both on Christmas night?"

"Ruby has never missed a Christmas dinner cooked by Richard Strand, and she doesn't intend to start this year," Nic told her. From his tone and inflection, the words were a direct quote.

"What about you?" Alex asked.

"I'll be there," Nic answered. "Can I bring anything?"

"A decent dessert wine would be great." She couldn't resist getting in one last dig at her friend. "Ask Ruby. She'll know what Richard considers decent."

She didn't need to see Nic leave to know he was gone. She heard him from down the hall, telling her to go home. Alex rolled her chair to the door. "And don't forget to call a cab for every one of those people," she shouted after him. A rousing cheer echoed back.

Alex shook her head at the sound. Those kids would be feeling it in the morning, but at least they were having their fun in a safe space. Alex wondered why she was so protective of the interns when minutes before she'd been ready to kill them.

Alex shut her door. The sudden quiet was soothing. The dim light thrown off by her computer pushed the shadows away and lulled her into a sense of safety. Her eyes closed. Alex abruptly sat up. She promised Nic and Richard never to nap in her cramped office chair again. Not when she had a better option`: wrapped up with Richard in their large bed. (And, if she were honest with herself, the dog taking up his own section of the bed.)

The thought of real sleep motivated Alex to get moving. Ten minutes later, she shut off the lights in her office and locked the door behind her.

In the lobby, the impromptu PNWS Christmas party was in full swing. Alex looked around for Nic, spotting the bedecked bunny ears toward the front of the room. He held up a novelty t-shirt in her direction, and it apparently was the funniest thing he'd seen all day. Alex had to laugh too. The joke was cute. She thought Richard would appreciate the reference, although he would never admit to it.

"Have a Merry Christmas!" she wished the interns as she passed them in the lobby. They yelled the sentiment back at her, a few of them adding other suggestions as well. Alex waved goodbye to Nic, then reminded him about the cabs.

Without waiting for a reply, she turned away and hit the stairs that lead down to the street.

Nic was partially correct. The rain was imminent, but it waited to begin until Alex stepped out of Imogene's Place and onto the sidewalk in front.

As a transplant who went native a long time ago, Alex was not bothered. She was thankful that it came straight down and not blowing at her sideways. She shuffled her purse and the box of tea around and pulled her compactible umbrella out of her purse. Alex popped her cheery, red umbrella open and ducked beneath its shelter. Alex set out for her car.

Another habit brought back from Geneva was a constant awareness of her environment. Walking down the street, Alex couldn't help but notice how empty it felt. Empty in Seattle being relative, Alex was never completely by herself. She passed other solitary walkers. One couple. A man lounging in a door frame. With one week left before Christmas, Alex expected the streets to be crowded. Why weren't they more crowded?

Alex gave herself a mental shake. Paying attention to her surroundings was a good thing to do. Being aware of potential dangers kept her safe. Paranoia kept her crazy and sleep-deprived. Occam's Razor suggested a simple explanation for the lack of foot traffic. Probably the weather, not the presence of shadows that stretched out unnaturally long.

The crisp wind whipped around her. It tousled her hair and rattled her umbrella. With it came a scent Alex loved: pavement in the rain. The heat from the tea radiated through the flimsy cardboard box and the sleeve of her coat. The comforting smell in the air and the warmth on her arm stilled the troubled thoughts in her mind.

Alex had a sudden realization of why it felt so empty. The absence of people wasn't to blame. If a hundred people surrounded her, Alex would still feel alone. Those people were normal. Alex would never consider herself normal again. Normalcy became impossible the moment Richard Strand answered Alex Reagan’s eleventh phone call.

The boy with spiked green hair, strutting down the street like he feared nothing on earth. The couple sharing one umbrella, their heads bent together, in a world of their own. The man in the doorway, cupping his hands over the cigarette, hoping to keep it lit long enough to get his fix of nicotine. They were ordinary people consumed by everyday concerns. They would never know how close they'd come to losing everything. Alex both envied and pitied their ignorance. Their dreams would never be interrupted by nightmares of unimaginable horror. But they would never know the beauty of living in a fragile world. She picked up her pace, eager to return home to the one person who understood.

Alex arrived at her car. She went to the passenger side. The box was settled gently on the seat. Her wet umbrella was thrown into the back. Alex slammed the door and scurried around to the driver's side of the car. Throwing the door open, she launched herself into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut behind her.

Out of caution, she locked the doors first. Then she turned on the engine and hit the climate control button. One of the advantages of this new car Richard insisted she buy was its heater. Within minutes, it was warm enough that Alex felt comfortable to shrug off her coat. Alex fished her cellphone out of her coat. She typed a quick text to Richard. _On my way home. Please call off Ruby. Thx_. Her phone buzzed almost immediately in response. Alex read his reply and laughed out loud.

Looking carefully around herself, Alex pulled out of the parallel parking spot. The car joined the traffic flow and was soon one more pair in a rush of headlights, bound for home.

When they decided to move in together, Alex and Richard agreed on one thing. Neither of them wanted to live in Howard Strand's house. They disagreed on location. Alex wanted an apartment downtown in walking distance of the PNWS office. Richard wanted more green space out of the city. The hard-fought compromise meant a longer commute for Alex and an acre lot in a leafy suburb for Richard. To match their budget in their preferred neighborhood, the house had to be a fixer-upper. To Alex's surprise, Richard felt comfortable around tools and proved to be familiar with repair work. Alex was equally surprised to discover not only did she enjoy renovation, but she was good at them as well.

Forty-five minutes after she left the office, Alex pulled into her driveway. She parked behind Richard's black, sensible car. When viewing houses, Richard was adamant about off-street parking. On a dark December night, Alex appreciated his instance. A short and well-lit walk to her front door meant less chance to trip and drop her laptop bag and spill the box of tea.

Shifting her things, Alex dug her house key out of her pocket. The heavy wooden door opened quickly, thanks to new hinges and a generous application of grease. The lights in the hallway were on, sparing Alex the need to feel around for the light switch. She tossed her car keys in the bowl on the side table and placed the box on the table as well. She hung her coat and purse on the pegboard by the door.

Something large brushed her legs, wooly scuff followed by the chill of a wet nose.

"Hi, Malcolm," Alex greeted her dog. The Scottish Deerhound bumped his head against her hand, and Alex scratched behind his ears. "Richard?" she called out.

"In here."

His voice came from the family parlor. Alex walked down the hall, the dog padding along at her side.

Alex paused in the doorway. There sat the great Richard Strand, a tangle of Christmas lights stretched out between his long hands, an expression of frustration on his face. Two more strings of light tangled together in his lap. Alex wished she had her phone out to take a picture. She could use the leverage in their ongoing argument about the wallpaper's authenticity versus the modernity of paint in their bedroom.

Richard didn't look up from the mess of wires. "This wouldn't happen with white lights," he said.

Alex smiled. The two of them had playfully argued about Christmas decorations since the first week of November. At this point, Alex accepted that going back and forth was their preferred form of communication.

"I gave you the white lights outside," she reminded Richard. She sat down in her favorite chair, groaning with relief at the feeling of the cushions supporting the weight of her body. Malcolm laid down at her feet. "Colored lights are pretty,"

"Colored lights are garish," he argued.

"We saved the world, but we can't agree on Christmas decorations...or wallpaper or paint," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "It figures."

"Obviously, this relationship is doomed," he said, the humor in his words taking the sting out of them.

He looked up at her. Firelight glinted off the rims of his glasses. His eyes took her in whole, seeing every small detail about her. Alex knew she was an open book, one he'd been able to read almost from the first day of their partnership. Now their relationship had turned personal, and she was still learning the language Richard Strand's book was written in. But she had always loved to learn.

"You seem more tired than usual," he said.

Alex moved around in the chair, making herself more comfortable" Today was a weird day," she told him. "Sarah recanted her story."

"The woman who allegedly went to another world?"

"She's the one," Alex answered.

"What caused her to recant?"

Alex shook her head. "The phone connection was bad; I could barely hear her. All I caught was something about an owl."

The skepticism on his face was familiar. "She likely realized the ridicule she would experience if her story aired on your show."

“Mmmm," Alex murmured. She was too tired to debate him, so she decided to distract him instead."I brought tea from Imogene's." Her eyes drifted shut. "I left it by the door. I was too tired to take it to the kitchen," she murmured.

Richard rose to his feet. He stretched for a moment, working out the kinks in his long legs and arms. "Thank you," he said. "Would you like tea? It might help you sleep."

"At this point, I'd try anything," Alex told him.

As he passed Alex by, he placed a quick kiss on her forehead. Alex sighed at the too brief contact. She snuggled into the overstuffed chair. The fire in the fireplace was enough to keep the room comfortably warm. She started to doze off.

"Alex." Alex opened her eyes and blinked in confusion. It felt like he just left, but Richard had already come back into the room. He stood beside her chair, holding out a cup and saucer. 

Alex accepted them. She took a sip. The tea had a strong plant flavor, the bitterness cut by the sweetness of sugar.

“Sugar?” Alex asked. “I thought you wanted me to sleep tonight.”

"I knew you wouldn't drink it straight." He told her. She gave him a look. "The effect of sugar is nearly negligible in that small amount," he told her. He sat down in the chair opposite her. "What else happened today?"

"The interns started drinking at noon," Alex told him. Away from the chaos of the office, she could see the humor in the situation. She was still young enough to remember her days of being young and dumb and doing crazy things.

Richard shook his head. "And how dd Nicodemus Silver handle this situation?"

"Not well," Alex admitted. She had a sudden flashback of Nic in his yuletide finery. She swallowed her laughter down with her tea. "When I left, he was going shot for shot with James from fact-checking.”

"He should set a better example."

“That might be hard to do in a pair of bunny ears," she said. She watched Richard think about asking what she meant, decide it was probably better not to know, and take another sip of tea instead. A continued in a casual tone. "Or wearing that t-shirt." "

"A T-shirt?" Richard repeated in disbelief. Alex knew that one would get to him. The idea of wearing a t-shirt to work was a serious offense to his Generation X sensibilities. The T-shirts were for home or travel. Alex had never seen Richard Strand at the office in anything less business casual. 

"I think we both need one for next Christmas. Nic would love it, the interns might think you're cool, and we could wear them in a cheesy Christmas card photo."

"Alex, I don't wear t-shirts."

"I think you'd wear this one," Alex insisted. "The design is Fox Mulder’s "I Want To Believe" poster, but with Santa's sleigh instead of a UFO."

"As a resident skeptic, I can't endorse the theory of Santa Claus's existence," he said. "Not without evidence to support the hypothesis." He kept a straight face and an even tone. Alex saw his lips twitch with a repressed smile and the glint of humor in his eyes.

Alex played along. "Noooo. You cannot be a Scully about Santa Claus." Alex shifted forward in her seat. "I bet even Dana Scully believes in Santa Claus."

"I doubt it."

"I want to believe that she does," Alex told him. She dissolved into laughter. She needed to go to bed if she was laughing at her lame jokes.

Richard sighed in mock exasperation. "I'm beginning to suspect buying you the complete series for your birthday was a miscalculation on my part."

"Too late now!" Alex said gleefully. "Do you think Walter Skinner believes in Santa Claus?" She was becoming more punch drunk by the second, made evident by her mind conjuring up an image of the manly, brooding Assistant Director in a Santa suit. Alex never admitted it to anyone, but she had a massive crush on the man. She blamed it on her penchant for tall, authority figures with dubious motivations.

"A definite mistake."

Richard’s voice broke into her thoughts. She heard the smallest note of jealousy in his voice. She looked at him. His expression was a familiar one. It made her throw up her hands and her mental shields."We agreed my head is crowded enough without you in there too," Alex reminded him.

The good humor fell away from him. "It's hard to avoid it when you're projecting this loudly, and you're too tired to keep me out," he explained. He looked away from her, the pain and embarrassment evident in his face.

Alex immediately regretted her words. Richard was still coming to terms with previously repressed psychic abilities surging to the forefront. He'd had weeks of practice to control them. Around most people, his control held. The only one he struggled with was Alex. He theorized that the difference came down to his physical and emotional connection with her.

She reached out and took his hand in hers. "You'll always be the Scully to my Mulder," she said softly. Their silly in-joke meant much more than it sounded like it did. A familiar mental touch brushed against her mind. Alex allowed him in, letting him sense her love and acceptance of him. He squeezed her hand in silent thanks.

His thumb brushed gently over the engagement ring on her finger. From the moment he slipped it on her hand, Alex looked at it at least ten times a day. She looked again. The emerald cut diamond shone red in the firelight. The shadows it cast resembled a red ribbon, binding their hands together. They finished their tea in a comfortable silence.

Malcolm was a warm, substantial presence at her feet. His massive chest rose and fell with his breath. She found her breath falling into a rhythm with his. The chair surrounded her with softness, and the tea warmed the pit of her stomach. Her eyelids grew heavy. If she weren't careful, she'd fall asleep in her chair. More comfortable than her cramped office chair, but still a chair and not her bed. Alex peered around for a distraction....

Alex awoke to darkness.

Immediately, panic flooded her mind. Her stomach churned with the sick feeling that came with waking up too soon after too little sleep. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for potential enemies lurking in the corners.

"Alex?"

Richard’s voice brought her back to safety. She realized she was in their bedroom. Alex laid back down. Earlier in her day, she dreamed of this moment. The perfect place to sleep, in bed with Richard and the dog was snoring softly at the foot of the bed.

"I'm alright," she whispered. "It was just a bad dream."

Richard didn't respond with words. His arms wrap tightly around her, pulling her closer to him. Alex let herself be moved and rolled over to face him. She curled into him, her head resting on his shoulder.

Her last conscious thought was of one of the interns. The girl stood on a chair, swinging a bottle from each hand as she yelled out a toast.

"And to all a good night!"

Alex smiled and finally slept.


End file.
